Where Is My Mind?
by LaVioleBlanche
Summary: After a hard day's mission, Face can't help but worry over the fact that Murdock isn't sleeping. Meanwhile, I continue to fail at summaries. Some TV series references, but not many. M/M


I wrote this after being awake for three solid days and nights (thanks a ton, sleep apnia and seizures! you bitches), so forgive me if it's a little weird. Also, try to catch my many comic book and TV show references! Yes, that's right, I am a card-carrying member of Geekaholics Anonymous.

WHERE IS MY MIND

"Murdock."

"Huh?"

"You've been staring at the same page in that comic book for the last two hours."

"Page?"

"Something wrong?"

"No."

Silence.

"Murdock."

"Huh?"

"When was the last time you slept?"

"Slept?"

Face slid off his bunk and took a step closer to his indecisive friend. Murdock's eyes were sunken, bloodshot, twitching, and he swayed slightly with each breath. **Oh hell**. "Yeah, y'know, sleeping. That thing people do when they close their eyes and lie down on a flat surface and let their brains and bodies recover from traumatizing and life-threatening missions?"

"...Huh?"

"Okay, that settles it." The con man reached down and grabbed the pilot's shoulder, hoisting him up off the floor. The WildC.A.T.s book fell, pages flapping, and Murdock looked as though he would have liked to complain about his place being lost if he'd had the ability to focus.

Face dragged the deadweight of 37-year-old craziness over to his bed and dumped him unceremoniously onto it. Murdock just lay there, looking distantly perplexed as to why he was suddenly horizontal. Sighing, Face bent down to unlace the pilot's Chucks and suddenly the prone, unresponsive man was shooting backwards on the mattress, his eyes huge, every muscle tense. Worried that his friend would injure himself, Face reached out and caught hold of the thrashing Ranger's wrists. Unfortunately, this only seemed to make him struggle harder. Dodging a kick, the playboy tried to soothe his Howling Mad companion, wondering how he'd set him off.

"Hey, whoa! Murdock, man, it's okay! It's just me! Hey! What is it?"

"Nononononono! Can't sleep, clowns will eat me. Can't sleep, clowns will eat me! Hahahahahahaaa!" Murdock threw his head back and let a howl rip from his throat, and Face knew that something was seriously wrong.

**"Yo, Face, get that crazy fool outta there."**

**"Gotcha, BA. C'mon, buddy, up and at 'em." Face hauled his mental friend up from the floor of the small cell that Wallenquist's men had held him in. "How you feeling? Sorry we took so long; this location wasn't easy to find. We ended up having to call in some favors from Dan and Walter to get the location."**

**"Aw, hell, fellas, it weren't no problem. Two weeks of paid leave in these boys' company's done me worlds of good. We're just fine, ain't we, Billy?" Murdock beamed at them all. **

**"Who the hell is Billy?" BA asked skeptically.**

**"His invisible dog, remember?" Hannibal clapped the pilot on the shoulder, smiling up at the big black man. "Billy was the one that peed on your shoes last week."**

**"Son of a-" **

**"Told ya it wasn't me." Murdock winked. "I've been doin' my best, but he's just so darn resistant to being house trained."**

**BA glared but Hannibal spoke up before he could threaten the pilot with vengeance. "Alright, boys, save the sweet talk for later. We gotta shift it before Wallenquist's goons arrive."**

**"Righty-ho, Skipper! Come on, Private! Let's go, Kowalski!" The rescued man took off with seemingly boundless energy toward the exit.**

**"Anybody know who Skipper, Kowalski and Private are?" Face glanced at the others.**

**"Not a clue." Hannibal followed his pilot out into the hallway, moving briskly.**

**Face started to leave as well, but BA's big hand grabbed his shoulder suddenly. The con man glanced back. "What?"**

**BA's brow was creased. "Somethin' ain't right with that fool."**

**"Well, duh." Face grinned.**

**"That's not what I mean. Didn't you notice how he flinched when Hannibal patted him? And he's got big dark bags under his eyes."**

**"Well, c'mon, BA, he's been locked up for two weeks. I'm just glad they didn't torture him." The smaller man tried to shake off his friend's hand, but the grip tightened.**

**"That's what I'm tryin' to say." BA's frown grew. "You and I both know there are plenty ways to torture somebody without leaving any marks."**

**"What do you mean?" Face's grin shrank. "You mean like sleep deprivation, sensory overload, that kind of thing?"**

**The big man nodded grimly. "That's exactly what I mean."**

**He was right, Face realized, recalling Murdock's twitching eyelid, the way he'd pulled his hand out of Face's grip and shuddered when Hannibal's hand had slapped his shoulder. In the same instant, he realized that BA was also wrong. There were marks. It was just a lot harder to notice the small, red circles left by electrodes. Shit.**

**"Come on, guys!" Murdock's Southern twang echoed down the corridor. "We gotta find Doctor Alloy and Merle before El Hombre del Lagarto gets here!"**

**BA looked at Face. Face shrugged. **

**"Look, I'll mention it to Hannibal once we're out of here, okay? I know we all get kind of concerned about HM sometimes. Don't worry; he'll be all right once we get back to base," Face said, trying to reassure both of them.**

But he wasn't all right. He was Murdock, and he was crazy, and he was the best damn pilot in the world, but he was absolutely not all right. Of course, Face had spoken to Hannibal, who had ordered his protege to stick to the recently liberated man like glue. That was why they were now the only two in the Team's building; BA had gone to tinker with his new van and Hannibal was at a card game with Gail, Dwight, and some of the girls of Old Town.

So now Face was stuck trying to get a panicking Murdock to calm the fuck down and go to sleep, and he had nobody around to help, and dammit if the pilot's struggles weren't somehow one of the most arousing things he'd ever seen. Murdock's shirts (he appeared to be wearing three) had ridden up, exposing a line of skin. The urge to lean in and taste that skin was sudden and almost overpowering, and Face had to actively hold himself back. **Christ**, he told himself, **this is Murdock for fuck's sake. He's my **friend. **Okay, yes, my completely nuts and frustratingly sexy friend, but still.**

...But. Well, wasn't sex supposed to be one of the best methods of releasing melatonin? Face knew for sure that when he'd had a really good roll in the hay he slept like a log.

"Murdock?" He said softly, releasing his friend's wrists. The pilot looked up at him, bleary but wired. Slowly, Face lifted his hands and let his palms rest, ever-so-lightly, on the sleepless man's cheeks. For whatever reason, that seemed to bring him out of it somewhat.

"...Face?" It was the voice that Face had only heard once or twice in his life; the shaky, quiet, vulnerable whisper that hid under all the crazy, the tiny scared insecurity under the thick shield of reckless, careless bravery.

"Yeah, buddy. It's me." Face felt his friend's breath, hot and uneven, against his own, and he closed the distance between them.

Their lips met very briefly, just the barest brush of skin, then pressed together once more, firm and warm and rough and perfect. Face opened his mouth and tilted Murdock's head, getting better access as he traced his tongue across the pilot's lower lip. HM shivered and tentatively responded, catching the smooth-talking Ranger's tongue with his own and letting a soft sound escape.

"Mm-"

Face groaned in response; he knew **he** was a good kisser (he had to be, he was **Face**) but he'd had no idea how good Murdock, of all people, was at this. His hips moved on their own, rubbing along the pilot's thigh.

Murdock froze.

**Uh-oh**, Face thought seconds before he landed on the floor.

"Uhmf!" The wind knocked out of him by the fall, he lay wheezing for a moment, trying to decide if he was happy or disappointed that the concrete hadn't knocked him out.

Over the edge of the mattress, a pair of wide, bloodshot, worried eyes appeared, staring down at him. "F-Face?"

"That's my name, don't- uhrf- wear it out," Face sat up slowly, rubbing his back.

"Did- did I just-? Aw, shit, Facey, I'm sorry... I dunno what's... I-I- my head's a little... fuzzier than usual, I think. I think I must've... must've been seein' things. Yeah. For a second, I thought you- I'm real sorry, Face, I didn't mean to shove you like that." The insane Team member was rambling apologies, and Face looked up, about to tell him to shuddup, then caught Murdock's anxious gaze and lost any and all irritation toward him.

**Dammit, Murdock, you're too... too fucking** cute, he wanted to say. Instead, he stood up and approached the bed once more, holding up his hands as Murdock scuttled backward. "It's fine," he said, because really, it was. "But I really need you to get some sleep, pal. You're gonna get sick; you already look really unhealthy-"

"Flibberty-gibbet, man, I'm as juxtaposed as the next hamburger!"

**I'm not even gonna bother to try translating that one**. "I'm sure you are, HM, but you still need sleep."

"No!" The lucid expression and stammered 'sorries' were gone; the familiar manic gleam had returned to those wild eyes. "Five more minutes, mom, pleeease! Frankie always gets to stay up; why can't I?"

"Murdock!" Face grabbed the pilot's shoulders and the babble ceased. "Murdock, I need you to listen."

"But of course, Duke Marshmallow; I'm all ears!"

"Stop! Just... stop for a minute." Face sighed and looked his friend in the eye. "Look, Murdock, I know. I know that Wallenquist's men... hurt you."

Murdock was silent.

"They tortured you, didn't they? They kept you awake all that time. And..." He glanced down, let his fingers trace one of the nearly-invisible red marks on Murdock's arm. "They used electroshock, right?"

"I..."

"Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell us when we were there? We could've hunted those sons of bitches down; we could've **done** something!"

"I..." The exhausted man looked down, then back up. "I've had worse?" He offered lamely.

"And now you don't wanna sleep at all," Face continued regardless. "Because you think if you do, something bad will happen."

Murdock shuddered. "I'll wake up and I'll still be in that cell," he whispered, absolute certainty mixing with terror in his voice.

Face wrapped his arms around the pilot, who went rigid. Ignoring this, he brought his face closer and murmured, "Not if I'm with you."

A beat of silence.

Slowly, cautiously, bony fingers curled into the back of Face's jacket. Shaky breaths ghosted across his neck.

"How 'bout this," he suggested. "I'll just stay here. You get some sleep, or at least try, and I'll be right here." Another breath of silence, and he felt Murdock nod.

"...Try..."

Face rubbed his friend's back gently and helped him to lay down, curling up behind him and pulling the blankets up over both of them. Ordering his libido to mind its own business, he ran his fingers down Murdock's spine one more time and closed his eyes. HM made a contented noise in the back of his throat (which did nothing to help Face control himself).

For five minutes or so, they lay peacefully.

Then Murdock started kicking the blankets away.

Face reached down and absently tugged them back up.

Murdock promptly kicked them back down.

Sighing heavily, Face sat up. "What's wrong, buddy?"

"'M hot," Murdock grumbled, squirming.

**You're damn right you are**. The con artist heaved another sigh, kneading his brow. "Okay. Well, you are wearing a lot of shirts. Why don't we take some of 'em off?"

"Umkay." The madman pulled himself into sitting position and held his arms up.

"Uh. Right." **Wait, am I blushing? I'm Faceman! I don't blush; I make other people blush!** Still frustratingly red-faced, he pulled the pilot's lurid Hawaiian shirt off, followed by the baggy Watchmen tee and down to a black , he managed to peel the final layer of shirt away and glanced appreciatively at his handiwork.

Well. Damn. Murdock was **built**.

I mean, yeah, of course, they ran dangerous missions; they all had to be in pretty good condition, physically if not mentally, but...

Damn.

He couldn't resist running a hand down that flat, smooth stomach. Hmm. Surprisingly thin, but still somehow immensely satisfying. Murdock, however, seemed to disagree. He panicked again, squirming and trying to swat Face's hands away, babbling:

"No, no! C-can't do that! Not supposed to know, nobody's supposed to- Can't!"

"Shhh, Murdock, I'm not gonna hurt-"

"No! D-d-don't ask, don't ask, don't ask, don't tell!" The pilot protested in a strange little singsong voice, trying to wriggle his way out of the con man's hold.

For the second time that night, realization struck Face. "You're..."

"**No**!" Murdock flailed, red-rimmed eyes wide with alarm. "Nobody's supposed to know, nobody! Nobody knoowws the tuh-rouble I've seeeen-" His song was cut short by Face's left hand clamping around his mouth.

Slowly, wary of the fact that he still had an armful of madcap, the suave Ranger leaned in and murmured soothingly. "It's okay. Murdock, it's all right. It's okay for us to be like this. You're... you're safe with me."

An intake of breath. "Safe?" His voice was muffled by the palm across his mouth.

Face smiled, not the typical Face grin that had charmed the panties off hundreds, but a genuine, almost gentle smile that was reserved for only one quirky, weirdly brilliant, howling mad pilot. "Yeah. Safe. I promise."

Face pulled his hand away and replaced it with his own lips. After only a split second of shyness, Murdock's lips parted and their mouths met fully for a second time, exploring. Once more, Face was blown away by the lunatic's brain-meltingly agile tongue. Determined to give a good as he got, he nipped at the Southerner's lower lip and let his fingertips trace the spiderweb of scars, some fading, some only weeks old, on the exposed torso. The pilot's skin was soft, warm, and little shivers ran under Face's touch. Murdock pulled away for breath, his big eyes scanning his friend's as if looking for any cracks in the playboy's promise, some sign that this wasn't for real. Face tried harder than he ever had in his whole existence to show how honest he was; not just **look** honest, like he usually did. He wanted to let Murdock see that he was everything, that he, Howling Mad Murdock, was wanted. Needed. Loved.

"I..." The recently-tortured man held Face's gaze. "I didn't want you to know. You weren't supposed to find out. No one was."

"It's okay." Face smoothed his palms down the pilot's sides. "It's all right, HM." He kissed Murdock's left shoulder, then his collarbone, moving downward. The madman gasped when hot breath brushed a nipple.

"**Face**..."

"Mmm," the sweet-talking Team member bit gently, hands slipping down to surreptitiously unzip the baggy cargo pants that the pilot wore.

"No fair," Murdock gripped the front of Face's shirt. "How come I'm half-naked and you're not, Facey?"

"You've got a very good point," Face said seriously, quickly tugging his shirt over his head. "Can't tell you how sorry I am for unbalancing the cosmos with my lack of nudity and **nng**-" His head went back and a moan escaped as the A-Team's unofficial chef tackled him and trailed nips and open-mouthed kisses down his torso. "God, Murdock... you're so..." His hips rolled upward and he had to fight to keep himself under control. **Son of a bitch, I can't **remember** the last time I've been this turned-on, and we haven't even **done** anything yet!**

Before Murdock's lips could go any lower, Face sat up and pinned him to the bed with his knees on either side of the madman's hips. Lowering himself, he ground their erections together, eyes rolling back.

"**Fuck**, Faceman- please- oh-!" Murdock writhed helplessly under his friend's actions, his fingers digging into the sheets, scrabbling at the pillow, clawing at Face's muscular arms. He was so overwhelmed that he could only whimper when the con man pulled away suddenly.

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere." Face grinned deviously, fingers busily whipping the black leather belt from its loops and pulling Murdock's trousers down fully, followed quickly by his BPRD boxers. He couldn't help but pause for a moment to admire the results of his ministrations on the Southerner. Murdock's legs were trembling with the exertion of holding still, his stomach a hollow plane of taut muscle. Taking pity, Face licked his lips and dipped his head.

The insane Ranger's eyes went, if possible, even wider, his mouth falling open. "Oohh, **Face**, holy- **Ah**! Oh, god, yes, that's so- Fuck, shit, oh my god, **FACE**!"

Feeling him tense, Face pulled back, not wanting it to end yet. Murdock nearly sobbed at the loss. Full of a weird rush of pride in himself for having such an effect on his companion, Face undid his own pants and kicked his briefs off. He leaned over the languishing body in front of him, reaching for the drawer of the nightstand. He fumbled around inside it for a feverish moment until his hand found the small bottle he was looking for. He grinned triumphantly, then gasped when Murdock, annoyed at being momentarily ignored, leaned up and latched his mouth onto Face's hipbone.

"Holy-!" Faceman almost collapsed onto the bed, barely holding himself up with one arm, his other hand gripping the bottle so tightly his knuckles went white, as he felt that agile tongue slide left until it reached the base of his cock. "Oh, fuck, Mmmurrrdock! Ahh, god, fuck- mmm-" He felt the slightest scrape of teeth, felt his legs about to give out. "W-wait... ah, ahh, wait, Murdock, wait, I-" With a Herculean effort, he pulled away and crawled backward until he was hovering, face-to-face, over the pilot. He kissed Murdock again, slowly, reveling in the fact that this was real, that this was really and truly happening. He broke the kiss to stare at his friend.

"You... you're okay with this?" He asked, despite his libido's outrage. "I mean, you're sure you... want this?"

Murdock frowned, tapping his chin with one finger as he considered. After an infuriatingly long few seconds, he glanced up and said brightly, "Ndiyo! Mimi nina uhakika."

"Please tell me that means 'yes'," Face groaned.

The psychotic pilot chuckled and tilted his head up to plant a soft kiss on the con man's lips. "Absolutely."

"Oh, thank god," Face lunged forward and buried his face in Murdock's neck, thrusting shallowly against his partner. Murdock moaned and wrapped his arms around the larger man.

Popping the lid of the container in his hand, Face coated his fingers thoroughly with lubrication and tossed the bottle carelessly over his shoulder. Sucking at the spot behind the lunatic's ear, the con artist carefully inserted a finger between his friend's thighs. Murdock only tensed for a moment before squirming experimentally, urging Face to continue. Templeton slid two more fingers in, curling and twisting them, feeling his erection throb when the pilot moaned and bucked. **Hmm**... Face pressed in deeper, searching. Murdock cried out, arching, as the fingers inside him struck something.

"Aah! Aaaah, mm, F-Face..." He went limp, panting as the digits were removed.

Face quickly coated himself with the remaining lube on his fingers. Eyes lidded, he took hold of Murdock's arm, raised it, and very gently brushed his lips over one of the marks left by the electrodes. Murdock shivered, eyes full of madness, lust, and something else. Tangling his hands in the Southerner's shaggy blonde hair, Face slowly entered him. The pilot grunted, nails digging into his partner's back. Obligingly, Face halted, halfway in, and stroked Murdock's cheek with his thumb.

"You all right?" He asked shakily, straining to keep himself still.

The insomniac man nodded hard, once, his chest heaving. He released a breath through his nose, looked back up at his fellow Team member, and smiled crookedly. "'M fine. Move."

Face hesitated a moment, then thrust forward. Murdock's brow furrowed again, but he hefted a leg and wrapped it around his friend's hips, kept him from withdrawing. Face angled himself, gave a gentle push, and was rewarded with a shuddering gasp and the tightening grip around his waist. He pulled back, smiled, and plunged in as deep as he could.

Murdock threw his head back and howled.

Grinning now, Face sped up his thrusts, lowering himself until their chests met and their breath caught between their mouths.

"God, Murdock... fuck, you're so perfect..." Their mouths tangled together, again and again, between his murmured endearments. "Ahh, Mm-Murdock, nn-"

The pilot met him, thrust for thrust, howling and writhing as wave upon wave of pleasure crashed into him. "-!"

Face slammed into him, the bed creaking in protest, feeling Murdock lock both legs behind him. Spine arching, the mad Ranger gave a wordless, hoarse cry as his orgasm rushed through his body. Face followed quickly after, lost in the deep, tight hot world of Murdock. They both hung suspended, their climax blocking everything else around them, then collapsed, breathing raggedly.

The playboy A-Teamer, feeling utterly satiated for the first time in he couldn't remember how long, pulled himself out and rolled over, half-assedly pulling the blankets back up over both of them. He felt something nudge his side and glanced down. Murdock was cuddling up against him, eyes closing, his head resting on Face's chest. Face sighed contentedly, not caring about the goofy grin that had spread itself across his face, and let his own eyes slip shut.

Sometime the next morning (or maybe afternoon) Face was awoken by a deafeningly loud rumble. He opened his eyes, blinked, and looked down as another growl came from Murdock's belly. The pilot yawned and looked up at him. Face ran a hand through his friend's hair and kissed him on the tip of his nose, then frowned as a third grumble broke the silence.

"Jeez, Murdock, when the hell was the last time you _ate_?"

"...Ate?"

"Goddammit."


End file.
